


Amsterdam

by NinaIrene



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinaIrene/pseuds/NinaIrene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emil has sought freedom from his nordic family by moving to Amsterdam, only to be disappointed by what he considers to be the most filthy and shameful city he's ever seen. That is, however, until a strange and alluring man enters his life and challenges everything he has come to believe about the world around him. (NedIce, modern, human AU, clean at first, will gradually grow explicit. Rating will change with new content added.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Oddity of a Pipe

**Author's Note:**

> Et voilà! The brief introductory chapter to my second multi-chapter fic! This story is a bit more personal, so hopefully that (and practice!) will make it an improvement from my last one. 
> 
> I use human names as follows:  
> Iceland - Emil  
> Netherlands - Lars  
> Finland - Tino  
> More will appear as the story is updated.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up soon as well. Enjoy!

Wertheim Park didn’t prove to be the clean patch of grass that Emil had been hoping for, and by the time he arrived he just wanted to turn around and walk right back home. Why was it so hard to find a quiet, comfortable space outside his own home to take a break and clear his head? Emil thought the entire city of Amsterdam to be a crowded, unsanitary mess, and wondered to himself if it would ever be worth leaving Iceland to live here - although either way he felt he had no choice.   
He decided to rest his feet for a few minutes before walking back and settled on the edge of the park’s fountain. Surveying the scene in front of him, as usual, depressed him. People walked - some briskly, some leisurely - along the sidewalks and through the grass. Sounds of laughter and traffic echoed through the atmosphere. There was a mother with her two daughters having a picnic to his left, and the early afternoon sun was punctuating the carefree positivity of the space. No, this was definitely not a place he could relax. Not when there were so many people enjoying their day around him and all he could do was wonder how incredible it must be to be able to feel that bliss.  
Emil decided he’d had enough of his little spontaneous adventure and was about to stand to leave when he suddenly became entranced by a gap in the cheery atmosphere. It was looming over a man sitting on a bench about 4 meters to his right with his back to Emil. This man was alone - had he always been there? - smoking a pipe and watching as cars passed by just beyond the park’s fence. It seemed, for a brief moment, that everything else about the day around Emil disappeared - the fountain, the mother with her children, the sun shining much too hot - none of it existed and the only thing left to think about was this ominous man and his pipe.  
The man in question seemed to blend into his surroundings - into the bench, into Wertheim Park, like he had established such a peaceful coexistence with this city that he himself had become a part of Amsterdam - and that this was all an outstanding and fascinating act unfolding right before Emil’s eyes. He seemed to attract everything to him like some sort of magnetic force, but nothing and no one around him seemed to realize that this was happening.  
What was it that had grabbed Emil’s attention like this? Was it the man’s silent and rigid stature that contrasted with the relaxed people around him? Was it the fact that he was the only person alone in the park besides Emil himself? Was it the oddity of a pipe? That was it, Emil decided, and he was instantly snapped out of his trance. How indecent it was to smoke so shamelessly in a public park! Yet another reason he hated this city: too many people polluting common air with their unhealthy habits! It angered him to watch and he decided that that was why he couldn’t pull his stare from this stranger, of course! (Why did he feel he hadn’t quite convinced himself?)  
After concluding that he had solved the mystery of this man, Emil finally stood and walked the other way to return to the street.

For the rest of his evening, Emil busied his mind with his usual activities: tidying his flat, making himself dinner, even starting a new book, but his attempts to clear his mind of the man he had seen in the park earlier were futile. Who was he? What was he like? Why did his very existence cause Emil to feel the need to ask so many questions? Sleep - he just needed to sleep.

~

The department stores on the east side of town were simply the best, that was all. At least, that was Emil’s explanation as to why he was making his way down Amstel road towards Wertheim Park the Wednesday after his first adventure in this area. It certainly had nothing to do with his childish hopes of getting another glimpse of the strange man who refused to leave his mind alone.  
Crossing over Blue Bridge, Emil picked up his speed. His excursion had to be completed within the next hour and a half - his shift at the supermarket started at 1.  
By the time he reached the park, he had decided to walk along the road that was just outside the black fence surrounding it in the direction that the man had been facing. The exact bench where he had sat was now approaching on Emil’s left, and he kept his eyes strictly on the concrete in front of him until the very second that he was passing the bench on the other side of the fence. (How ridiculous could he be? What was he hoping for anyway, that observing the spot where the man had sat would answer the questions consuming his thoughts? That for some odd reason, the man would still be sitting there and Emil could discover his face?)  
Not knowing what to expect Emil turned his head, only to have his pulse freeze and his breath catch in his lungs. The man was there. Emil was certain that he was the same man as before - not only did he have the same tall blonde hair he had seen from behind, and even the same blue and white striped scarf despite the growing warmth of the day, but Emil also felt the same entrancing atmosphere around him as before. The four seconds that Emil spent passing by him felt like they occurred in slow motion, and Emil was convinced that they had become the only two people to exist within a 100 mile radius. Once he was no longer beside the man, Emil snapped his gaze back to the sidewalk before him and reestablished his steady breathing.  
After a few moments of trying to process what had happened, he was able to realize what the man had looked like. In his mind Emil recalled a stiff, hard face with a vertical scar above the the right eyebrow and bright green eyes that Emil could feel seeing right through him. Wait - the man had been looking at him! They had made eye contact! Why hadn’t he noticed this while it was happening!?  
And then there was the pipe. That goddamn pipe that ruined the whole thing. That’s what he decided to focus on instead of the fascinating - dare he say it? - allure of this man. How great could this man possibly be if he makes those kinds of irresponsible and unhealthy choices for himself? Certainly he was not worth Emil’s peace of mind, he concluded before he tried his best to return his attention to finding the nearest department store.


	2. A New World of Possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important to know for this chapter:
> 
> In the Netherlands, "Coffeeshops" are shops where the selling of cannabis is tolerated by local authorities.
> 
> However, Coffee Houses are your regular cup of coffee stops.
> 
> Chapter 3 should be up by the end of the year... hopefully!

Emil stared at his phone as if wishing it to be silent would make it stop ringing. The dialing code was 358, indicating that the call was coming from Finland. He had intended to burn all bridges between himself and his Nordic family by moving, but a call from Finland would be from his brother Tino who had been the kindest to him, and Emil felt awfully guilty for ignoring every single one of his previous calls. For the first time in over 5 months, he picked up his phone.

"Hello?" He answered, already frustrated that he had given in.

"Emil? Is that you!?"

"Yes..."

"Oh thank god!" Emil could practically feel the relief coming from the other through the phone. "Are you okay? Where are you? You have no idea how worried we were when we saw you had sold your apartment and disappeared without a word!"

"Yes, Tino, I am perfectly okay." How much should he tell? "I haven't gone far. I just moved to Amsterdam. I have a flat and a job as well as money I had been saving for a while. You don't need to worry. I'm happy here, really." That little lie at the end for the sake of Tino's peace of mind couldn't hurt.

"Oh I am so happy to hear that. Everyone else will be too, really. But..." oh great, Emil thought, here it comes. "why so sudden? Why no warning, no contact, nothing?"

Emil already had an answer prepared. "I'll tell you when I know for sure myself."

It wasn't a shallow response he had prepared to avoid the subject, it was the honest truth. He knew his family had always had the best intentions for him, he wasn't going to deny that much. They probably hadn't even realized the damage they were doing with their constant pressure and fighting. Emil knew he had to escape in order to thrive. But it was a good question - why had he felt the need to do it so suddenly and secretively? He usually opted to stop thinking about it before he figured that much out.

Emil heard a sigh from the other end of the line. "Very well, then" Tino concluded.

"Wait," Emil wasn't sure why he hadn't wondered this sooner, "how did you get this number? I thought I left no clues..."

"Well... you see..." Tino almost sounded ashamed. "Berwald has his ways... you have to understand we were all worried for your life..."

"So you spied on me." Emil accused. This was ridiculous! Tino probably even knew where he was before asking!

"Spy sounds so dramatic... we were just checking in on -"

"Whatever." Emil knew he was starting to sound harsh, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. Couldn't he ever escape? "Just, I don't really want to be contacted again. Is that alright?"

"Oh Emil..." was all Tino could say. Emil took a deep breath.

"I have your number now since you called just in case there's an emergency. I know I can trust you. But just know that I'm safe and happy even if you're not hearing from me."

"Suppose that is the important part. Okay. Stay safe then, and remember I am just a phone call away." Emil was feeling his gut sinking into shame at this point in their conversation. "We love you Emil, remember that."

"Mhm... bye..." was all he could manage. He hung up before the other could have a chance to hear the weakness in his voice. Afterwords he was only certain of one thing: he had to get out to clear his head.

~

Now Emil really couldn't stand himself. He was already depressed and anxious after Tino's call, and now he had stormed his way to Wertheim park without thinking twice. What was worse - for some reason that he was too afraid to understand - was that the captivating and intriguing man he had seen was now nowhere to be found. Well, that wasn't unreasonable. It was growing near 9:00 PM, who else would be senseless enough to wander around a park at this time of night, especially after sundown?

How would the man being there have made things better anyway? It's not like Emil wasn't suffering from anything that wasn't his fault - it's not like anyone could help him dig his way out. He hated Amsterdam and was inexplicably unhappy. This he knew. He couldn't move back North - he couldn't breathe around his brothers. Should he try moving South, or even East, but just to somewhere less urban? Would another move solve his problems? Could he even afford it? He was already settled here and had secure in a job that he could live off of, but dear god he was so lonely.

His hands gripped the concrete edge of the fountain he was sitting on until his knuckles turned white. He realized he was breathing heavily and he had to remind himself not to yell out of frustration or even worse: cry. Emil knew he probably needed to, but it would be far too inappropriate, at least here and now. This was his punishment for moving spontaneously, he thought, and now he was unbearably lost.

Not only that - at this moment he was in danger. He felt it before he heard it. Someone was walking up to him from behind. Emil wasn't necessarily weak, but he knew he wouldn't be able to fight off a capable attacker if that's what was happening. He thought he should leave quickly, but he didn't want to be too sudden. Should he just get up and walk? Should he turn to look straight at the approaching stranger? Was there anyone around him to help or be a witness if needed? He prepared to move. However, to Emil's surprise, the stranger made no attempt to keep his presence a secret. Instead...

"You've been coming here often." A statement. Emil snapped his head around at the absurdly smooth and casual voice. And of course - he should have expected this! - he was met by a pair of emerald eyes and a carved wooden pipe.

"Just... a couple of times..." The man was looming over Emil and he felt intimidated and uneasy.

"Very well. May I sit with you?" he actually waited for Emil's response. The younger boy nodded, his eyes unintentionally wide, and the man took a seat next to him on the concrete edge of the fountain.

Unfortunately, when he did this, the smoke from his pipe swirled around Emil and the boy tried to cough its heaviness out of his lungs. This didn't escape the man's attention. He chuckled ever so slightly, uttered an apology, snuffed out his pipe, and placed it on the other side of him, away from Emil. What would urge someone to engage in such a nasty habit? Even after the man had put out his pipe, the stench of tobacco was soaked into his clothes. It made Emil wonder if he should question this man's morals and intentions, and also why he had let him sit down in the first place.

Although, being honest with himself, Emil wasn't sure he could have denied the others' request. He had a character as hazy as the smoke that surrounded him, and by god, Emil was certain this man's looks could get him anything he wanted. He knew he couldn't have said no to this mysterious masterpiece of a man. However, the other hadn't uttered a word of conversation since joining him, and Emil thought that rude.

"I'm Emil. And you are...?" he asked, deciding to try and break the silence.

"Lars is my name. Nice to meet you" he responded, staring at the space in front of him. "Do you live here in Amsterdam or are you traveling?" He inquired flatly.

"I moved here from Iceland this past summer."

"Why?" Lars' questions seemed nonchalant and effortless.

Was this stranger asking personal life questions already? How impolite! Still, for some odd reason, Emil felt he needed to answer.

"Family problems. I needed a new start." Emil grew suspicious that his responses were being drawn too easily from him and was suddenly embarrassed that he wasn't being more reserved. He had to get back at Lars. "And what about you? Do you live here? How long have you been here? Why?" Lars smirked at the interrogation and Emil realized that he had probably sounded childishly eager. He decided to stay quiet after that.

"I've lived in Amsterdam all my life. Wouldn't leave it for the world." Emil nodded to acknowledge the man's answer, then let silence sweep over them again.

Of course he's always lived here, Emil thought. He's shady, suspicious, probably manipulative, and most likely into some unspeakable things. What a holistic representation of this city. But even as he was thinking this, he couldn't pull himself to stand and walk away. It was like there was an entire new world of possibilities sitting just two feet to his left... he halted his imagination there. It did no good for independent young men like himself to fantasize like that.

It was Lars who broke the silence. "Do you think you will stay here?" Emil shrugged. "What, you don't like Amsterdam?"

"Not particularly" he stated.

Lars sighed in disbelief. "Well that won't do! This city is far too magnificent to leave somebody unhappy with it."

"Maybe for someone like you." Whoops, that was a bit too cheeky, Emil thought, but Lars didn't seem offended. He was silent for a few seconds, but when he spoke again, he sounded amused.

"Someone like me, huh. I see then." Emil knew the man could see straight through his euphemisms to his true judgements. How... embarrassing.

"I tell you what. I can show you the beauty of this city better than anyone. How about we meet up at a coffee house tomorrow? I can't treat, but I can show you some cool stuff around the area." Emil exhaled audibly and looked to the ground. He couldn't believe this! Surely this man wasn't offering to... but he was! Emil wasn't so much of a stranger here that he didn't know about the infamous Dutch "coffee houses!" He stood his ground with a shaky voice.

"I apologize but I prefer to refrain from associating myself with that kind of shopping." This time the man didn't try to conceal his amusement and let out an obvious snort in response.

"I suppose you are new here. You're thinking about coffeeshops. Which, I do know a few good ones if you ever become interested. However, coffee houses are your regular coffee and snack stops. I don't suppose you won't associate with that kind of shopping, right?"

Emil felt his face burning red. What a stupid mistake! Instinctively he thinks he could act smooth by accepting Lars' offer and brushing off his blunder. But there was an intimidating, fearful uncertainty running through his veins, and the only thing that did for him in the moment was give him more excuses.

"Either way I have to work tomorrow, so I can't." He lied. (He had Saturdays off.)

"Fine, fine" Lars replied. "Well I'll be at the Café de Jaren on Nieuwe Doelenstraat from 12h to 12h30 tomorrow if you change your mind." His Dutch accent was heavy when he spoke these names and the sound made Emil shiver. However Lars' bluntness of "if you change your mind" indicated to him that the man wasn't buying his lies, and this infuriated him. Without thinking, he turned to offer some spontaneous snarky retort only to see Lars already a few yards away, disappearing into the night, his white and blue scarf flapping behind him.

~

Emil didn't even try to filter the questions crowding his mind that night. Should he trust this man? Why did he always seem to be there? How did he know to speak English automatically? By 11:00 PM Emil had gotten impressively creative with all of the questions he could come up with about the situation, but the one that bothered him the most, of course, was this: should he meet Lars at the café tomorrow?

He knew it was a bad idea. It was obviously an awful idea to trust or go along with anything this man said. Then why was Emil, against all better judgement, so undeniably tempted to go?


	3. Emil Felt Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Even though this chapter is longer than the last two combined, I know there's no excuse for taking so long to get it out. Apologies!
> 
> Also, apologies if this gets boring at times. I promise the sexy stuff and the drama is on the way, but there's some important stuff here to get through first ;)
> 
> For this chapter:
> 
> Alice - Belgium
> 
> Warning: tiny bit of alcohol consumption.

Emil was finished brainstorming excuses. He wasn't on this side of town for the supermarkets. He hadn't gone for a stroll to clear his head. He was about to enter the Café de Jaren because he was simply overcome with curiosity for what this man could have in store for him. Something about the crisp fall air made him feel refreshed and encouraged him to be brutally honest - to himself at least.

So here it was: Lars was suspicious and shady, yes, but he was also somehow fascinating. How his eyes always seemed like they could see beyond the scenery in front of him into some complicated universe that only he could understand. How his smoke swirled from his lips up above his head, assimilating into the atmosphere like he himself seemed to. He was a source of... entertainment... for Emil, providing him with excitement that he hadn't felt in a long time.

With a deep breath he pushed open the door of the cafe. Lars was seated to his left not too far from the entrance and was skimming through a local newspaper and taking a sip from a coffee cup. Emil stood to examine him for a moment. Removed from the cheery atmosphere of the park and without his pipe he appeared almost average. Like he could have been overlooked if not specifically looked for. Lars didn't seem to have noticed him yet, so Emil decided to move in and sit down before the other caught on to his staring. However,

"It's not nice to stare so obviously, Emil" he spoke as Emil took a seat. So he had noticed. Of course.

"I didn't realize I was here for a lesson in etiquette." Emil's own boldness sent a shutter of satisfaction through him, causing his heart to speed up. How silly.

Lars grinned. "Etiquette? No, no. Stealth maybe. Simply standing and staring is no way to people-watch. People don't act like themselves if they're aware that someone is observing them. You've gotta blend into the background of their surroundings." Lars finished his explanation with a long sip of his coffee, and he lowered his newspaper to peer over the top of it at a woman sitting a few tables away. Emil followed the other's line of sight, still somewhat confused.

"I don't get it. What are we watching for?"

"Not watching for anything, just watching."

"Isn't that a bit... creepy?"

Lars didn't respond to that. Instead, after a few moments, he started stating his observations. "Look at how her hands shake. She doesn't appear nervous so I do not think it's fear - besides she has her back to the door. She seems too alert and well-rested to be hungover though. I would guess there is stress or conflict at home and she's out for a break. That explains her deep and concentrated breathing."

Emil couldn't deny being slightly intrigued by this woman's possible story unfolding right before his eyes. Uneasy, he took a shot at it. "Maybe it's because of a boyfriend?"

"Spouse." Lars responded rather quickly. "She's wearing a wedding ring" he stated like it should be obvious. This put Emil off again.

"Okay then, so what? Why should we care?"

Lars turned his gaze away from the woman in question and gave his full attention to Emil. "Do you not find people fascinating?"

What an odd question. It took Emil off guard. "Uhh... I mean... people are just people... they do their thing and I do mine... I don't see how it has to be any more complicated than that" he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Lars grunted a light "hmm" and sat back in his chair, looking forward in the woman's direction again. Emil felt a desire to chance the subject immediately.

"So are we going anywhere or are we just going to sit here and stalk everyone we see?"

"Hm." Lars grunted again. "Well I guess if you're ready we can get started. Anything in particular you wanted to see?" he asked and began to stand, folding the newspaper and placing it on the table for the next guest.

Emil followed his lead and stood as well. "Not really, I assumed you had a plan." The two began walking towards the door, and as they passed the woman whom they had been discussing, Emil couldn't help but glance at her. Who was she? What was she dealing with? Why did Emil care so much all of a sudden?

"No, no plan really." Lars confessed as they stepped out into the brisk fall afternoon. "But lucky for you, my improvisation skills are much sharper than my planning skills." He lead the way down the busy sidewalk and Emil struggled to keep up with his quick pace. "Do you have a bike at your place?"

Already trying to find a way back to my place, huh? Emil couldn't help but think. Still, he answered truthfully. "No."

"Living in Amsterdam with no bike. Hmm." Lars looked back to toss Emil a slightly devious smile. "Well then we'll just have to borrow a couple."

"Borrow?"

"Yes, borrow! Follow me." As soon as he commanded this he took a quick turn through the crowd on the sidewalk, almost too sudden for Emil to realize where he went. When he caught up to the other Emil stood stiff, realizing now what Lars had meant. The older man was inspecting a bike that was leaning against the black railing of a bridge. Emil looked around frantically to make sure nobody was watching them, but fortunately the crowd on the bridge was too preoccupied to notice them in particular. He kept glancing around anyway as he leaned to Lars to whisper harshly.

"You mean steal!"

"No, I said borrow! We'll return them when we're done." Lars appeared to decide that he liked the bike he was looking at and swung his leg over the side.

"This is absurd!" Emil was almost yelling now. "This is more than absurd, this is illegal!"

"Suit yourself" Lars concluded, and he hopped up onto the seat and began to speed away.

"Hey! Wait!" Emil shouted for no reason. Lars had already crossed over the short bridge and taken a right turn, biking out of sight. Annoyed and out of options, Emil quickly convinced himself not to think too much about what he was doing. He grabbed a bike to hop on to as well. It took him quite some time to establish his balance and set a steady pace. He had been taught how to ride a bike by his uncle Mathias but it had been several years since. He can still remember the last time as clear as day: riding through Copenhagen, the bright colors of Nyhavn passing on his right - he shook his head to regain focus. This was no time for reminiscing! Where did that damn Dutchman go!?

He rode after Lars as best he could, offering a string of apologies to the pedestrians who were muttering harshly at him in Dutch for almost running into them with his shaky biking skills. After clearing the right turn after the bridge he found a relatively wide bike lane stretched out in front of him. He steadied himself and turned his attention to scanning the path before him for a blue and white striped scarf, with no success.

Emil had to admit it was a beautiful day. Though almost strained to the point of suffocation by the smell of the city, the breeze rushing by him carried the promise of a clean and crisp October ahead. For a second, he almost felt like he could loose himself in this adventure of riding the wind and speeding past all of the little details about this place that irked him so much.

However, he found out that "discovering himself" at a time like this was not such a good idea as he had to slam on his breaks to avoid hitting a little girl who had wandered from the sidewalk into the bike lane.

"S-sorry! I'm sorry!" The little girl's mother came to pull her away and shot a glare at Emil. As he sighed to himself and prepared to continue, he heard an annoyingly familiar chuckle coming from his right. Lars was off to the side watching.

"Better be careful, kid! Now, follow me. We have a library to visit."

*

The Amsterdam Public Library, or Openbare Bibliotheek Amsterdam, stood tall over the river and Emil wondered why he had never noticed the eccentric structure. On their way to the top floor, Lars began his explanation. "Many consider this the best library in Amsterdam. And I agree."

"I'm not much of an avid reader."

Lars smiled. "Good thing I brought you here to show you what is, in my opinion, the best view of Amsterdam instead" he said as they entered onto the top floor open terrace.

The moment Emil took in the view the terrace had to offer he was blown away. Feeling somewhat under a trance, he moved to the railing. He had never seen the city like this before - like a single unit with a complexity of individual parts all working together to paint one complete picture. He looked down to watch boats floating through the canals and busses crossing over them. He looked out across the tops of the buildings into a horizon that seemed to stretch out into infinity before him. Everything was moving - everything became a part of some sort of still life controlled by something greater. It took him several moments to return to where he was standing and realize that Lars had just asked him a question.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Uh... yeah... it's pretty I guess." When Emil turned to face the man next to him, he witnessed something else that seemed beautiful. In Lars' eyes, which were surveying the scene in front of him, Emil could see the passionate love that this man had for his city. His eyes took in Amsterdam - and it took him in as well - and he was at peace in a way that Emil only felt when sitting amongst the fjords and glaciers of his home country. Then, as if the other could read his mind:

"Do you not feel helplessly in love watching your own home?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.

"Well, yeah" he admitted, looking down now, wondering if Lars had noticed him staring into his eyes.

"But the love doesn't make up for the 'family problems'" he stated.

Emil's gut sank for a split second and he decided it was because Lars' statement was invasive and rude, of course. "Well that's none of your business."

The two stood there for a few minutes longer, and Emil brought himself to continue observing the cityscape. With this unexpected entertainment he almost felt comfortable loosing track of time. But before too long Emil was distracted by an empty growl from his stomach. To his embarrassment, Lars had heard it as well.

"Is it time for lunch?" the man asked playfully.

"I suppose..." Emil answered, trying to remember how much cash he had brought with him. "It'll have to be pretty cheap though..."

"Cheap?" Lars smirked. "Is free cheap enough for you?"

Emil rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh what, are we going to 'borrow' our lunch too? I'm not sure I could return that when finished."

"Well aren't you a smartass" Lars accused while turning to exit the terrace. "There's a food festival going on downtown. Taste of Amsterdam. Don't tell me you don't know the old trick of turning free samples into a meal!"

Emil had no idea how to respond to this foreign concept, so he simply followed the other's lead.

When passing the lobby, Emil noticed a man playing an upbeat tune loudly on a piano, surrounded by four people singing along in Dutch. Lars informed him that this was a communal piano, open to the public, and that the "performers" were all probably strangers to each other. Surely he couldn't have been right though. These "strangers" were so perfectly in sync with each other. Singing and laughing like a group of friends out for a day in the city. There's no way that people who had just met minutes before could be like that with each other, right? Still, for some reason, the thought of such a utopian scene hung around Emil's head as they made their way to lunch.

*

"You can't possibly make a meal out of this, can you?" Emil walked perplexed alongside his Dutch tour guide who was snacking on free samples of a fruit parfait.

"Of course, why not?"

They strolled past colorful tents buzzing with tourists hopping to and from them all. Emil had heard a passing word or two about the coming annual Taste of Amsterdam food festival and had intentionally avoided the area. "I guess I just... hadn't thought of it."

Lars finished his plate, tossed it in a trash bin, and began scanning the booths for his next course. "Are you going to eat?" he inquired of Emil.

"Oh... yeah." Emil mumbled. Once committed to the idea, he found it surprisingly easy to follow the older man's lead and construct his own lunch out of samples. He paused once to ask what would happen if someone noticed them taking advantage of the freebies, only to be answered by a shrug from Lars.

They collected food from here and there until finally they were both satisfied, at which point Lars exclaimed that they needed an experience in the Dutch fine arts to accompany their experience in the culinary arts, implying that their next stop would be a museum. Upon returning to the spot where they had left their bikes he also explained that he had a particular museum in mind because there was someone special he wanted Emil to meet.

By the time the two were racing on their bikes through the city again, Emil felt himself thriving on a dangerously blissful high. He told himself not to let it show - not to appear vulnerable - but there was no denying the feelings manifesting inside. It was like he had never been to this city, this Amsterdam, and it was like he was getting to know Lars in no time.

But was he really? He knew it was dangerous to accept things as they felt on the surface. What had he really learned about the man? About what he did for a living, or in his leisure time, or about that scar on his face? Even though he tried to scare himself into feeling cautious again, these questions didn't seem to carry as much weight as they had before, and this worried him.

*

Lars stopped abruptly and Emil had to swerve to avoid running into him. After leaning their bikes against a set of stairs leading up to a museum entrance, the Dutchman lead the way inside. When Emil was taking care to shut the door behind them, he heard the other shout in an uncharacteristically lively voice - for him at least.

"Alice! You're looking quite wonderful, as always."

Emil made his way over to the two. Alice, as Lars had called her, was coming out from behind the reception desk of the museum to greet the older man with a hug. She had short blonde hair tied back by a headband, and was sporting perhaps the biggest grin known to man. (Well, second to that of Emil's Danish uncle, he thought.)

"Oh, you" she teased as she wrapped her arms around Lars. At this, Emil felt something strange in his gut. Was it... embarrassment? Was it... no. Definitely not. There was no way it was jealousy. He adamantly denied the idea. Why would he feel jealous of some girl of Lars'? The man probably had a hundred anyway. Gross.

"Emil, come meet my sister, Alice. She's new to the city too, just moved back here from Belgium to open this museum. Alice, this is Emil, a new friend of mine from Iceland."

Oh... sister. Wait... friend!? Emil shook her hand and nodded to greet her.

"Iceland?" Alice giggled. "Wow Lars, these 'friends' of yours are getting more and more exotic every time" she exclaimed, sending a wink in her brother's direction. "Nice to meet you Emil!" Before Emil had any time to reflect on what she had said, the conversation moved on, leaving her possible implications to brew in his mind and be expanded upon later. "Admission for two then, I assume?"

Lars crooked his eyebrow playfully at her and crossed his arms.

"Kidding. Of course. As if I could ever dream of getting a penny out of you. Go on!" She waved them by, and as Emil passed her, she winked again. Why!? Does she know something that Emil should? Is this a familiar scene for her - Lars bringing people by - so she knows of a certain fate he is headed for? An uneasy feeling crept back up on Emil that he wouldn't be able to shake off for the rest of the day.

For the next hour or so Emil followed his tour-guide-turned-historian around from gallery to gallery, listening to explanations of ALL the paintings. He learned about Dutch independence from Spain, and about the ships that sailed to the New World and integrated the Dutch into the Asian trading system. He learned about Amsterdam during the industrial age and in early modern times. Lars seemed to spend a suspiciously long time talking through the immigration history of the city as well. All of the stories Emil had heard of in history class were coming to life through the artwork in front of him - and through the voice of the man accompanying him.

They came to the end of the exhibit and Emil had more crowding his brain than he liked. He felt like he had made a new acquaintance, in a way, with the city itself. (Did he like that?) But perhaps more prominently, he felt impressed by Lars, and an almost child like fascination had swelled up inside him. No, Lars was not off the hook for speculations of suspicious activity, but now Emil had to wonder: could such classy intelligence coexist with such damaged morals? Certainly not, he concluded, and decided there must be something he was missing.

When they exited the museum Lars turned to wave to his sister, but she had her back towards them and was speaking with someone on the phone. Regardless, Emil turned to wave goodbye as well.

*

The sun was starting to hint at the closing of the day, and reached the pair in faint beams shining through gaps between the buildings and trees that surrounded them. The temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees and the air stood still and silent around Lars, who did the same, apparently deciding on their next - and final - destination.

"What, run out of ideas?" asked Emil as he mounted his bike one more.

"No, I was wondering... yes. I think I will take you there." He grabbed his bike with sudden determination. "Follow me."

Emil, ashamed of his own excitement, obeyed.

After a journey much longer than the last few, they came upon a small and secluded patch of grass alongside a wide, major canal. The only other people present were ones out for a walk on the other side of the water, or driving past on a boat, and the sun had now began to retreat faster in the sky. The ominous atmosphere around Emil was accented by Lars informing him that he would "be right back" as soon as they had arrived, and leaving him by himself.

Emil took a seat on the grass and pulled his knees into his chest. He still found it difficult to wrap his head around what exactly he was doing. "Alone with a stranger in a strange city" he laughed to himself. "Me, Emil Steilsson, running around Amsterdam with a man I just met." He didn't deny - to himself at least - that this made him feel... powerful.

After quite a few minutes of waiting, he heard Lars returning. "I said I wouldn't treat, but I saw these were half off on the way here, and figured you couldn't experience this city without a taste of Dutch beer."

Emil turned his head to see the other handing a green bottle labeled "Grolsch" down to him. This stopped Emil's previous feelings of cool confidence in their tracks. Taking a tour of fun spots in the city was one thing, but drinking!? He hesitantly reached out to receive the bottle, and it rested heavily in his hand.

"T-thank you... but..." Lars was opening his own bottle and sitting down next to him on the ground. "You know I'm 18, right?"

"Yeah, well you know that's Dutch drinking age, right? You're fine." Right. Emil hadn't even thought of that - he was legal here.

"Okay... but... don't we have to bike back? Will it be okay for us to bike after..." he swore he heard Lars chuckle at him.

"It's only a small 5% beer. You won't get drunk." He turned towards Emil with an amused expression. "What, have you never had a drink before?"

Emil looked down at the bottle embarrassed. "I mean... I was underage in Iceland so..." he spoke with less conviction than before, and Lars leaned back to take a sip of his drink before speaking again.

"Hmm. I see. Well, drink if you want, don't if you don't."

Emil turned the bottle around in his hands. The idea of cool refreshment was tempting after after a long bike ride. And although he didn't have much of a gage of what percentages meant, he figured 5% was about light as you could get. He had always felt secondhand shame from the drunks he had seen wasting their lives away intoxicated, but if Lars was right and he wouldn't really get drunk from this, then what was the harm? He opened it (at least it was sealed so there was no way it could have been... altered... by the other) and felt Lars' eyes on him as he took a sip.

The drink sent a gentle burn down his throat and left behind a bitter taste, and despite himself, he coughed in response.

"Okay there?" asked Lars, almost laughing. Emil swallowed the feeling and felt his face growing red.

"Yeah. I'm fine" he stated, and endured another sip as if to prove his point.

The two laid back for a while after this in silence, watching as the fading light of day caught upon the surface of the water and danced to the rhythm of the waves. Eventually both beer bottles were empty, and just as Lars had predicted, Emil felt nothing.

He spent the time reflecting back on their day. The image of Amsterdam he had painted in his own mind so clearly just a day before was now filled with blurring lines and blending colors. Question marks had been stamped all over his previous assumptions by brave Dutch sailors and culinary experts, by strangers singing together and the sense of freedom experienced by riding on a bike. How much did he actually know? How unenlightened he felt!

There was one question, of course, that he felt couldn't go unasked, so he dared to bring up the subject. "Your sister today - she referred to me as one of 'these friends of yours' and winked at me like she knew something that I didn't." He wasn't sure how to pose the question - wasn't quite certain what exactly he was trying to ask.

Fortunately, yet not surprisingly, Lars understood with no further explanation. "Oh, don't mind her. She just... doesn't understand our relationship"

"Relationship?" The word seemed awkward.

"Or, I mean, our lack of one. You know what I mean."

Emil wasn't satisfied. "You've taken guys like me there before though."

Lars looked down into his empty bottle as if summoning an answer from inside. "When the occasion arises to take someone out or show them around the city, it's usually a go-to spot for me."

"And the wink?"

"Well those occasions are usually dates, of course." This caught Emil off guard although he knew it shouldn't have. So Lars had taken guys like him out before, and Alice had probably heard of their... activities afterwords. Okay, whatever. "Occasions" like that didn't apply to them here and now so he didn't care. Nope, not one bit, contrary to what the new adrenaline running through his veins at the idea would imply.

"So... uhh... I'm guessing this is another one of your 'go-to' places?" Emil asked to distract himself from asking another, more embarrassing question, and from the cigarette that Lars was now lighting next to him.

"No. Not usually. Just today. This place is a bit more special I suppose" Lars responded, looking to the darkening sky. "But enough about me. What did you think of-"

"Enough about you!?" Emil blurted out before thinking. As soon as he did he regretted it. Lars looked at him with a blank face but Emil knew that the other understood exactly what he meant.

It was a fair question! All he knew about Lars was that he was a native of Amsterdam, had a sister named Alice, and liked fucking guys after visiting her museum. And yet Emil had revealed so much about himself! He found himself frustrated with the same mysterious vagueness that had haunted him after his first stroll through Wertheim Park. Why did he want to know this man so badly!?

*

That was the end of their conversation. Before too much longer, Lars stood and suggested that they make their way back before it got too late.

The remainder of their journey passed in an unsettling silence. The Dutchman lead them both back to the bridge where they had "borrowed" their bikes so they could return them, ensured that Emil knew his way home, and began to walk away in the opposite direction. It was like a scene out of a movie, and this was Emil's cue to yell "Wait!" and run after Lars to confess... something.

This cue went untaken, however, and Emil turned to walk home as well. As the distance grew between the two, they each found the other weighing more and more heavily on their minds until one eventually decided he needed much more to drink, and the other decided it was time for a long night's sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sometimes I just wanna grab Emil's face and be like "SHHH NO MORE QUESTIONS." Also, Emil, what was that about being honest with yourself? I know, I know, it's difficult to accomplish. We'll get there.
> 
> Thank you guys for reading! As always, comments and constructive criticism is always WORSHIPPED.
> 
> See you next chapter!


	4. Engaged and Tempted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter this time guys. Sorry about that. Guess I'm just impatient to get to the drama too, which should come up in the next couple chapters.
> 
> Sorry about the wait too, as usual. I'm graduating soon, things are crazy busy, excuses, excuses. Anyway thank you so much for sticking with me on this! <3

October 29th had been the coldest day of the season so far. On this day the sun was deceptively bright as it shone on shivering residents of Amsterdam who rushed through their daily tasks. The light of day was no match for the curtains that hung in the flat of Emil Steilsson, however, which had been drawn ever since they were put up.

Emil was currently preparing himself a gourmet lunch - his cooking skills having improved with all the free time he had when not working. It had been a week since his spontaneous adventure with Lars and he had pretty much come to accept the probability that he would never see the man again. He accepted it but he didn’t like it one bit. He felt guilty for shouting at Lars, even though he could not understand why the other had seemed so offended. It was like he was growing nostalgic for something that never fully came to be.

Nonetheless he accepted this and had started to let it be and move on. So, naturally, it was about time for fate to step in and turn everything on it’s head. Just as Emil was contemplating whether or not to add more salt to his ‘plokkfiskur’ creation, his doorbell rang.

He froze. Was he hearing things? He had never even heard his doorbell ring before, was he even sure that it was his? Still, he made his way over. The person on the other side of the door could either be a member of his nordic family or his Dutchman, and he wasn’t sure which one he dreaded more. When he finally peered through the peekhole in the door and saw none other than Lars staring back at him, he decided he should act cool and ask anyway: “Who’s there?”

“What, there’s more than one person whom it could possibly be? You mean you’ve actually _met_ someone else?” Emil heard from the other side. Flustered, he opened the door.

There he stood. The mysterious Dutchman Lars - what was his last name? - standing tall in a crisp, light brown trench coat, lowering his gaze to Emil. When their eyes met, Emil felt a pang of guilt shock him. Lars’ tired eyes were cradled in dramatic, dark circles and red veins shone through his eyelids.

“C-come in...” Emil stammered, stepping back to allow the other room to enter, and nearly choking on the heavy scent of tobacco and something else that followed the other’s movements. His instinct was to reprimand the man for coming over unannounced and uninvited, but something about the way Lars dragged himself through the threshold - almost limping? - made him search for a more gentle way to figure out what this was all about. “I don’t remember telling you where I live...” he started.

Lars had made his way to a couch in the living room not too far from the door and settled on it. “Stuff like that is not too hard to figure out.”

Emil wasn’t too comfortable with that idea. “Either way... uhh... well are you hungry? I made myself some plokkfiskur earlier and have some leftovers... would you like them?” He asked. 

“No because you’re lying. That’s the lunch you just made for yourself but haven’t eaten yet.”

Damn this man is good, Emil thought. He picked up the plate he had prepared, grabbed two forks, and went to join Lars on the couch. “Here. We’ll share. Come on, I know you won’t give up a free meal” he said, placing the food on the coffee table in front of them. Lars did not respond to this, only accepted a fork and began to dig in. The silence that fell between them as they began to eat was unsettling and heavy but Emil felt no obligation to break it. Lars was the one needing to explain himself. The other did no such thing, however, so the only sound to be heard was the clanking of their forks against the plate.

With every second that passed Emil grew more and more anxious. He stole a few glances at Lars, which he was sure the man noticed but ignored nonetheless. Even through his pale face and tired eyes his aura of intrigue was overwhelming. Maybe those things even added to it. Emil took note of his rigid jawline, the veins in his neck, his slender fingers - all through quick glances. He was not too arrogant to admit Lars was attractive. He was, however, too proud to admit that he was excited by entertaining such a man in the privacy of his own flat - out loud at least. Adrenaline pooled in his stomach. 

Once their plate was clean, Lars took a deep breath and finally spoke up. “So. I came here because...” he seemed to be struggling with his words which felt odd to Emil. “I want to let you know me.”

_‘Let me?’_ Emil thought. What, is it some kind of privilege? Still, he tried to answer rationally. “Oh... okay...” 

“It’s just that I am not very good at that. I don’t like people to know me very much. But that creates... problems sometimes. So I was wanting to try it with you.” He was still, his eyes fixed on some distant object in the room.

Emil found the awkward, serious atmosphere difficult to speak through. “...Okay, that’s... good.” Didn’t he have anything better to offer? “Uhh... I liked our adventure. I think that I’d like to try more... things like that.”

Emil felt the tension finally release from the body next to him. “Really.” Lars stated, taken back. “What kind of things are we talking about here?” He seemed to light up like a dog who had just been offered a treat, engaged and tempted. Emil shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the abrupt change of mood.

“N-Nothing too big! you know... just... I had fun. That’s all.” Should he be careful as to not plant wild ideas in Lars’ head? The man still had yet to prove himself trustworthy and clean, after all.

“Well then, let’s have more fun, shall we?” Emil flushed red at this.

“Wh... uhh... yeah.”

“And maybe this time” Lars tested “it could be a date?” Emil knew this should not have been a shock to him, but he stared wide-eyed and speechless at the other regardless. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Emil couldn’t move his lips to speak - he simply nodded. “Fantastic. I will be here tomorrow at 16h.”

“I’m working tomorrow. I don’t get off until 18h” answered Emil, calmer now, and actually telling the truth this time.  

“Well then I will pick you up at your work! Where is it?”

“What, you don’t already know somehow?”

Lars laughed. “No. Please, enlighten me.”

“Fine then. I work at the Dirk on Bilderdijkstraat.”

“Great. I’ll see you then” Lars stood to exit too quickly for Emil’s taste.

“Wait! he stood to follow the other to the door. “I mean... where will we go? Do I need to dress up or...”

Lars turned to face him as he stood in the doorway. It was phenomenal the difference that just the past half hour had made in the other’s composure. His hair was still in need of combing and the bags under his eyes still begged for more sleep, but a rosiness had found its way to his face and a bounce now accompanied his every stride. Emil almost felt in danger staring into those now vibrant green eyes that glistened with the prospect of adventure. “Dress up?” he scoffed. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

 


	5. The Whole Space Was Black and White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graduated high school so now I get to focus on writing, but to be honest I've been feeling pretty discouraged about my writing lately. /sigh/ I feel like Kiki loosing my magical powers. Might take some time to try and find inspiration or something like that.  
> Anywhoo here's what you need to know for this chapter:  
> Antonio - Spain  
> Lukas - Norway  
> aaaaand this is the chapter that makes this story's rating change to explicit. Whoops. This is because of more drinking and sexual... things. Kinda.  
> Anywhoo I hope you enjoy, and thank you to anyone who's stuck with me on this story! <3

“Ta-da!” Lars said as he gestured grandly to the staircase in front of him. The stairs were wedged between store fronts and lead from the sidewalk up to a doorway barely visible in shadows. A flat. His flat.  
Emil had no words to offer out of his annoyance so he huffed and began to continue walking, somewhat hoping this was some kind of joke.   
“Nope, nope, nope!” Lars teased as he reached out to grab Emil by his collar to stop him from leaving. “Where do you think you’re going?”  
Emil turned to face him. “You’re serious. It’s our very first date and you take me straight to your place.” He cautiously started to follow the other up to the door.  
“Well, you know, dining out is expensive, and I prefer not to spend money on things I could get for free like movies.” He gracefully took out his keys and opened the door for them in one swift motion. “Besides, what better way to become acquainted than a movie night in?”   
Emil was then presented with the reality of Lars’ flat. The layout was much like his own, but there was a maturity and sophistication to it that made it seem like it had materialized directly out of an IKEA catalogue. The sun, busy setting, filtered in softly through white curtains and landed on black couches and a soft white rug. The whole space was black and white, in fact, save for the bright red coffee table which served as the room’s only warm accent and brought the rest of the decor to life.  
“I assume you like it?” Lars snapped Emil out of his trance.  
“Umm sure. It’s very... different than what I expected.”  
“And what did you expect? A drug lab? A harem?”  
“Yes.” Emil blushed because he wasn’t exactly exaggerating.  
“Well no worries,” Lars laughed, “I cleared those things out for the night. Figured they weren’t your style. Here, follow me. And you can take off that fancy jacket already. I can’t believe you actually dressed up.”  
Emil turned his face to hide his embarrassment. How was he supposed to know their date would be so casual!? Better overdress when uncertain anyway, and besides, his outfit wasn’t THAT fancy. Just nicely ironed khakis, a button down dress shirt and a warm, crisp sports coat. Of course this would be fancy to a man like Lars, Emil thought. He obeyed both commands. He left his shoes and coat by the door and Lars lead him down a short hallway to a smaller room. “I’ve gotta throw dinner together but how about you pick out some movies from the closet there?” He then turned for the kitchen and left Emil alone in what appeared to be an entertainment room.  
Alone in Lars’ flat was not something that Emil had planned on being any time soon. Before following the other’s instructions to pick out a movie, he looked around a bit. The room had one pair of windows, the light from which was being muted by dark blue curtains, which made the room feel like it belonged to a teenage boy who preferred hiding away in his cave of a room. A dramatic - yet maybe not so surprising - contrast from the main room.   
A couple shelves filled with books, potted herbs, incense, and dark boxes containing things Emil probably did not want to know about lined the walls - a mini fridge wedged in between them and a large TV set on the other side of them. Emil then turned his attention to the center of the room. Pillows and blankets had been strewn across a pull-out bed facing the TV set, and night stands with place sets for dinner were on either side. So THIS was the romantic date Lars had planned. Emil couldn’t help but find it... cozy.  
He spent some time shifting through Lars’ DVD collection only to realize he knew absolutely none of the titles. He eventually settled on a couple - a haunting mystery and an American action movie, most likely with way too many explosions and sexual innuendos - and sat back on the makeshift bed just as Lars was entering with two heaping bowls of salmon pasta.  
“This room is like my hideaway. My ‘happy place’ if you will” he explained as he put his bowl of pasta down on his night stand and handed the other to Emil who accepted it with a nod. He then took Emil’s first choice movie without commenting on the selection, started it playing on the TV, shut off the lights, and pulled two beer bottles out of the mini-fridge identical to the ones that the pair had shared a few weeks before. Emil took it without protest this time.   
For the first half hour of the movie, besides a few interjections here and there concerning the plot, not a word was exchanged between the two. They simply ate their dinner with eyes glued to the screen, a comfortable distance between them, and Emil almost enjoyed the gentle burn of the drink he had so detested only weeks before.   
The air around them was awkward at first, but as soon as Emil leaned back against the cushions so he could steal glances of Lars from his peripheral vision, all consciousness of proper social conventions and paranoia left his mind. He let himself stare. Lars’ hair was a bit more roughed up than usual and it looked like he had not shaved in a few days, and the image gave him a gritty edge that made Emil feel like melting. He watched discreetly as the other’s eyes flickered back and forth following the movements on the screen, as his lips wrapped the top of his beer bottle just right...  
‘Emil, stop that!’ he warned himself against his less clean thoughts and turned his attention back to his now empty pasta bowl. At that moment Lars got up to grab another beer from the fridge.  
“Want another?”  
Emil mumbled his response. “Yeah. Sure.”  
Halfway through the second bottle Emil started to feel a buzz flowing through his veins and by the end of it - and the end of the movie - his mind was floating on a sea of adrenaline. ‘So this is what it feels like to be tipsy’ he thought to himself. It was not so bad. He was still aware of all his surroundings and actions. Just because his movements felt lighter didn’t mean he was any different than the person he was before, right? What had he thought would change? He felt confident that he could live this dual reality of morality and tipsiness, even if most - especially Lars - could not. “Another” he commanded.  
“Right” Lars responded. “You wanted that action one next?”  
“No...” he stated, somewhat confused. “I mean yes... but I mean... another beer. Please.” It took him a few moments to look up and realize that Lars was staring at him in amusement.   
“What, no longer afraid of damaging those precious morals?”  
Emil felt offended, and knew he should respond with some snarky comeback, but he found himself momentarily silenced by he stare of what appeared to be the most gorgeous man on earth. He got lost in sharp green eyes and lips that curled up ever so slightly on one side to barely reveal perfectly white teeth. He had admitted before that Lars was attractive, but had he always been this stunning god of a man?  
“Hmm. I’ll take that as a yes then” his smooth, low voice came from between those barely pink lips and before Emil knew it he was being handed a third bottle.  
Apparently three medium-sized bottles of this beer was all it took for Emil to get completely drunk. He wasn’t quite certain how or when his arm had snaked its way around the older man and his cheek had come to rest on his shoulder, but after very little deliberation he decided he was far too comfortable to save his image and do anything about it. His comments for the rest of the movie consisted mostly of confusion about what was happening, and he barely understood Lars’ explanation each time. He found himself way too focused on Lars’ steady breathing and heartbeat under his arm.  
A wave of disappointment overcame him as the movie credits began to scroll and he felt Lars shift underneath him. “No, stay” he protested audibly without thinking. Lars obeyed.  
As the credits came to a close and the TV screen turned black Emil was having a hard time falling asleep, but his Dutch companion had done just that. He took a moment to register the position they had wound up in. Lars had an arm wrapped around his chest and somehow their legs had tangled to where Lars’ thigh was hitched dangerously high between Emil’s legs. Surely Lars was not as drunk as him, surely he had positioned himself this way with some sort of perverted intentions! Still, Emil was in no mood to peel himself away from the other’s chest.  
Time passed and the room continued to spin. Emil hardly registered what was happening when the other’s sturdy arm pulled him closer and his leg ground up between Emil’s thighs. He barely understood what was going on when he pressed the other’s hand closer to him, encouraging Lars to massage his chest, and rutted back against Lars’ leg. He barely even remembered twisting around in the other’s arm and reaching up to kiss along Lars’ jawline, still grinding against him, eager to encourage the development of whatever was going on. However, to his disappointment, the growing heat between his legs would go unaddressed as Lars lay still from that point on, despite his desperate advances. Sleep washed over him not too long after.

X

Heavy streams of light stabbed at Emil’s closed eyelids and a headache threatened to pounce if he made the slightest movement. Great. The aftermath of his irresponsibility. He groaned.  
“Your low tolerance is incredible” he heard Lars remark from the doorway where he stood with two steaming teacups. “Sit up if you can, I made you coffee.” Emil did as he was told, finding the dizziness not so bad and the headache only slight. As he shifted under his sheets, however, he noticed an extremely hard problem in his lap, most likely a result of last night’s unresolved contact. He frantically pulled blankets over it to try and prevent the other from seeing. Unfortunately his efforts were futile as Lars sat on the edge of the bed to hand him his coffee and almost snickered.  
“You can use my bathroom or a cold shower if you need. There is no judgement here. I’ll get some fresh clothes you can borrow.” Emil felt like rejecting the other’s ‘hospitality,’ but realized that it was probably not in his best interest to do so in this particular situation. He nodded, face flushed bright red, and followed Lars’ directions to his bathroom.  
He honestly tried his best to suppress his arousal with cold shower water and just forget about the night before. But despite his efforts he could - to his surprise - vividly recall what it felt like for the other to grind up against him, what Lars’ unshaven jaw felt like underneath his lips and how he had been overwhelmed with the heavy scent of this beautiful man. Emil knew he would have to take care of himself. So he did.  
He was no stranger to this. Emil bit his bottom lip to stifle any sound as he leaned up against the shower wall and took his own cock in his hand, thinking about Lars. He concentrated on Lars’ collar bones, his arms, his hips, all in great detail, using his imagination to make up for the parts of him he hadn’t seen. He tried to imagine what Lars would taste like, sound like grunting and moaning into his ear, feel like with a thin layer of sweat coating his skin. He picked up his pace and fucked himself helplessly to the thought of Lars’ mouth all over him, his body pressing against him and making its way inside. Making a bit more noise than he probably should have, Emil threw his head back and groaned, panting desperately as he climaxed and came all over Lars’ tiled shower wall.   
The cold water still running down his chest helped him regain his composure quickly. ‘How disgusting’ he thought as he washed it off. ‘How... relieving.’

X

After his shower Emil found Lars sitting on a balcony that extended out from the living room, facing the street. Emil watched him from behind as smoke curled upwards from his peculiar pipe, some of it lingering below and becoming entangled in his hair and clothes. He was hardly dressed, wearing a loosely fitting white tank top and tattered sweatpants. His hair lay flat against his head for once, illuminated by the sun, and mirrored the disheveled image of his still unshaven face. ‘This man will be the death of me,’ Emil concluded to himself.  
“I warmed your coffee back up if you still want it” Lars stated to him without moving. Emil carefully made his way to the empty chair beside Lars and took the teacup sitting next to the man’s own.  
“T-thank you.” He managed. To Emil’s surprise, it wasn’t much longer before Lars began to speak again.   
“I had a childhood friend named Antonio. His house in Madrid had a patio like this one. We would spend hours and hours on it doing... anything really. We got into a series of bad fights in our late teenage years so we don’t really talk anymore. But sitting out here always makes me think of him and those happier times.” He finished his speech and turned to look at Emil - his face was gentle. “There. Now you know something about me.”  
Emil wasn’t sure how to respond to the other’s efforts. Was this his intention in having their date at his flat? To make Emil feel like he knew him better? “Thank you... I guess... umm... I hope things get better w-with your friend or... whatever...” he shut himself up with a sip of his coffee.  
A few moments passed in silence before Lars spoke again. “I also wanted to apologize for my actions during the night” he stated, and Emil grew stiff. So he HAD been awake.  
“W-what are you talking about?”  
“You know. I’m sorry. I should know better than to come on to you like that.”  
“Come on to me?”  
“Well you seem like the kind of guy who would want to take things slow, am I right?”  
“Yes! Of course!” he responded quickly. Of course, taking things slow was the only reasonable way to approach a relationship. He would never enjoy recklessly rushing into anything. The slower the better... right? The uncertain afterthought hung in his mind. Things WERE going somewhat fast here. After one single day with this man he was already spending the night at his place and jacking off to the thought of him in his own shower. Why did some tiny part of himself like that? Lars said nothing after that, only raised an eyebrow at Emil as if to issue a challenge to his response. So Emil decided to be proactive and acknowledge his insecurity. “Actually I’m not so sure.”   
“There we go!” Lars grinned and leaned back in his chair.  
“What.” Emil grumbled.  
Lars took a dramatically deep breath. “Some people are so certain that they know the true path to righteousness that they deny themselves any forms of happiness that would stray from that path, and consequently guarantee themselves their own misery. But you’re not like that at all, right?”  
Stupid, sarcastic, condescending Dutchman. “Like you’re the epitome of morality.”  
“And why am I not? How do you measure morality?”  
Emil was becoming flustered. “Oh I don’t know, not engaging in disgusting habits, just... being a good person... how else!?”  
“So I smoke, I drink, I get high, and I fuck a lot. I engage in pleasurable things. But you know what else is pleasurable to me? Helping people. Making them happy. Kindness. Peace. Acceptance. Love. Are these also the characteristics of an immoral man?” Emil had no response so he allowed Lars continue. “People are not so simple that you can categorize them as either good or bad. The world is not black and white enough for that.”  
Emil permitted Lars’ words to soak in and the two sat in silence for quite some time. Could he be right? It sounded pretty reasonable - the idea that good is still good, bad is still bad, but people were neither. Then again, who’s job is it to define right and wrong? Was it no one’s job? Was it the people who seemed to have their lives together’s job? Was it each individual’s responsibility to define it for themselves? That sounded like anarchy! Still, it made sense in some inarticulable way, and Emil let himself consider its truth as he watched the people passing on the street below him, wondering how much good and bad was balanced within each of them.  
Hadn’t Lars himself demonstrated the positive impacts of this attitude just this morning? He had known that Emil had woken up slightly hungover and with a hard-on and offered his shower and clean clothes fully aware of what Emil was probably going to end up doing. Yet he accepted such a lewd situation in a “hey, it happens” manner, and held no judgements against Emil because of it, making him feel safe and understood. “Bad” morals and “good” morals coexisting. Maybe Lars was on to something?  
He had almost gotten around to applying the idea to the people in his own life when the sun over his head reminded him of his reality. “Oh my goodness... what time is it!?”  
“About 13h. But don’t worry about your work shift. I called in a favor this morning. They won’t be expecting you.”  
“Did you get me fired!?” Emil panicked, the validity of his work visa being the only thing preventing him from having to return home.  
“No, no. I just knew somebody who could help out.”  
“Creepy old man.”  
“Sorry.”

X

Emil did not stay for too much longer after that, having made up some excuse about having to do some paperwork which he knew Lars didn’t believe but accepted anyway. He had almost made it to the doorway with all of his belongings when Lars blocked his path for one last encounter.  
“Can I have a kiss or would that be too immoral after our first date night?”  
Emil looked up at the other. He stunk of tobacco and had yet to comb out his hair, but his stare had turned friendly and inviting. How could Emil decline? He dropped his coat to the floor dramatically, pulled Lars down by the back of the neck and kissed him without reserve.  
It was thorough yet innocent, way too short and left way too much to be desired. But Emil decided those desires could be addressed on another day - and that they themselves promised that there would be another day - and he began to make his way home.

X

Tino’s fatigued and shaky voice rang out into an empty room after the sound of a beep. “Emil! It’s me. Look, I know you do not want to talk but - we really need you home right now. Lukas has had another one of his episodes and he will not stop calling your name. It’s really bad this time... if you could even just give us a call... he just really wants to talk to his baby brother. Please. Call back when you can.”   
*Beep*


	6. "Family Problems"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is so late and so short and I am so sorry!
> 
> I guess the only warning for this chapter would be descriptions of a dysfunctional family. (And remember that the negative feelings about the other nordics are Emil's opinions at this certain point of time, not mine!!)
> 
> Also I am moving to Denmark in a few weeks (!!!) so hopefully I can get the next chapter up before things get weird... although my track record has not been great with that so far. Whoops. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Claiming "family problems" was, of course, Emil's way of diluting his issues into a general explanation to provoke enough sympathy in whomever he was talking to for them to press for no further information and leave the topic standing. It was also an effective way for Emil to avoid thinking too much on the subject himself. But now he was alone. Alone in his mind, alone in his flat which was now painfully silent after the playing of Tino's voicemail, even alone in this confusing city - aside from the stupid Dutchman he had somehow started to develop stupid feelings for. Alone with no one to pass this off as vague "family problems" to and forget about. Oh how he hated being forced to think about certain things.

His relationship with all of his "family members" had been confusing since the beginning. Though they did use this term "family" in reference to each other, he was only blood related to one of the men he lived with: his older brother Lukas. (Although he often had to remind himself of this fact because he might as well have been kin to them all.) Their whole living situation had started when his brother had felt the need to run away from home.

That was the main thing that made Emil angry about Lukas. He had hardly been 6 years old when his brother dragged him out of their house to move to Copenhagen, taking him to live with some Dane whom he would grow to call "uncle" Mathias until he was old enough to understand the romantic relationship between his brother and this man. However, since then Emil had asked Lukas why the move was necessary countless times to no avail. His own brother always hid the truth about their home in the northern fjords of Norway that Emil had been too young to remember.

On top of that, spending time around Mathias was just painful. The man always chose blissful ignorance; always laughed in the face of reality. Lukas would defend him: "Wouldn't you give anything to be able to see the world like he does?" before proceeding to bicker with him like some old married couple. 'No, I would hate it,' Emil would think. 'I don't understand how a man could spend his entire day running away from his problems and still have enough energy to make everyone's ear drums miserable at the dinner table.' But despite these frustrations their household managed to be functional at that point in time.

Berwald entered the picture after a few years. Emil was 10 when the man from Sweden moved in - young enough to not fully understand the kind of relationship that formed between the three men but old enough to know he probably didn't want to know. He does remember the fights turning more serious, however. Berwald would sit back all smug and self-certain as if nothing - especially not the agony of others - could touch him, while Mathias would scream frantically at him about god knows what and Lukas would leave to sit locked up in his room for hours. These fights continued for years in their household, grew more and more serious each time, and became a guaranteed weekly occurrence. At that point Emil did not understand what was happening to his brother, he only heard sobbing and muffled screams through their paper-thin shared bedroom wall. As much as he couldn't stand Lukas for hiding the truth about their childhood from him, he came to despise the other men even more for doing this to his brother.

Tensions seemed to settle for a bit after one disastrous argument that left Berwald storming out of the household when Emil was almost 15, and they remained at least subdued for a little while when the Swedish man returned later in the year with a Finnish boy about Lukas' age that he had apparently dubbed as his "wife." Tino.

Tino contributed a sort of serenity to an otherwise chaotic house. He was reliable and gentle. Strong and steady. Emil would forever admire his ability to be with a man who's stare would send anyone to their knees to beg for mercy, but would also forever be frustrated with Tino's tendency to avoid intervening against Berwald when Emil thought he and/or Lukas needed it the most.

It didn't take long for tensions to rise again - this time higher than ever. Emil was certain his break for freedom had come when their living situation itself broke. Each went their separate ways, spreading out across Northern Europe after a terrible night that all of them wish they could forget. (Emil still has nightmares about broken glass, bloody faces, and several rushes to the emergency room.) But he had never been so mistaken. The others were still a constant source of aggravation in his life - calling, texting, visiting, fighting over him - at least something every day. Even Lukas - whom he was so sure would be more than willing to break off his communication with the others considering what they had made of him - had formed some kind of sick dependency on what he called his "real family" and became addicted to this game of fighting and crawling right back into their trap.

He couldn't look at Lukas without longing for answers about his own birth family and youth. He couldn't look at Mathias without seeing his childish ignorance, selfish irresponsibility, and frightening rage. He couldn't look at Berwald without remembering how the man had destroyed a somewhat functioning household. He couldn't look at Tino without being pained by noticing how the sparkle he had once seen so clearly in the boy's eyes was fading day by day. "Home" became suffocating - every day was a strategic struggle to avoid the drama of the other men that had left him with flashbacks of their screaming fights. He couldn't stay in a place where they knew where he lived. He had to run away.

Why Amsterdam? Well, why not Amsterdam? Strangely enough a small convenience store chain had actually accepted his employment application there and he didn't have enough money for a farther journey. And where exactly would that move take him? To a flat where he would sit alone and listen to reports of incidents from "home," apparently.

X

"Did you ever learn why Lukas took you away from your first home?" asked Lars, eyes focused on the sidewalk as the two paced aimlessly around the city.

"He hated our parents. That's all I know."

"Did you?"

"I didn't know them well enough. I was so young when we left and they had never been around much before then."

"Hmm. And you said that Tino wants you back home because Lukas had an 'episode.' What does that mean?"

"Well. He was never diagnosed with anything - we never had him assessed - but whatever he has comes with panic attacks. Sometimes they're only a few minutes of anxiety, sometimes he can spend a whole day in distress."

At this point they had wandered to a less crowded part of town. They strode past a row of miscellaneous shops towards a narrow canal in front of them over which a tattered bridge hung. Though Lars consistently watched his feet, Emil turned his face to the sky where thick clouds were beginning to gather in the east. He had sworn to stay away. He had convinced himself that the few and far between moments of positivity with his family could never make up for the pressure and hatred. He had to cleanse his life from all of it. He had to become new. But still, even miles away, the same blood ran through Lukas as it did him. The same troubled sky that he was seeing now stretched out over Iceland as well.

They had come to a stop on the bridge and leaned over the railing to look out over the canal before Lars spoke again. "You have to go visit" he said, his voice stern yet somewhat distant.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You have to go see your brother. You cannot abandon him."

Emil's heart rate sped up at both the fact off the suggestion itself as well as its implications. "Do NOT blame me for wanting them out of my life. I had to look out for myself."

"I am not blaming you nor am I suggesting you should have stayed." Lars took unnerving breaks between thoughts. "But even though Lukas failed at his attempt to provide you with a safe, happy home, he still..." His voice faltered and it seemed like he was having trouble expressing himself "being abandoned by your only family in a delicate time of need is one of the most terrible feelings. Just... one phone call would have been nice - I mean - would be nice. For Lukas."

Lars had never seemed so transparent - Emil read him like an obnoxious billboard. "Alice...?"

"It was a long time ago. And, obviously, she's back and we are talking now. But it's not the same. It could never be the same as before she left. I... I'm sorry." He took a dramatic breath. "This is hard for me to say."

"I understand."

Emil stood there, the setting sun on him like a spotlight, his only ally within hundreds of miles trying to convince him to do the one thing that he had changed his whole life to avoid. He hated it.

"Well anyway it's your decision" Lars concluded as he retracted his pipe and tobacco from his coat pocket.

A phone call was inevitable. Emil would admit that much. And when he thought this his pulse spiked. What would he say? What would they think of him at this point? Would he become the newest subject of their spite? In the midst of questions swarming his mind he barely registered an arm wrapping around his waist from the man next to him.

When he did, though, his head snapped left to stare at Lars in astonishment. An attempt at such a warm act of support and affection coming from a man who's face stared off into the canal like some awkward carving in cold stone was... hilarious, actually! Under the serious atmosphere Emil found himself cracking and snickering into his palm, and actually laughing when Lars turned to him with an accusatory expression.

"What, I can't comfort you?"

"No no it's just... it seems so weird from you I'm..." Emil tried to control himself.

"Oh?" Lars set his pipe down on the handrail of the bridge. "Then how's this?" With the most rigid face imaginable he brought Emil into a big bear hug, even swaying him side to side for extra cheesiness. Emil could not stop snickering and playfully pushed Lars away.

"You know, you might tie with Berwald for the most awkward hugs ever. Not that he's ever hugged me, but his are just painful to watch!" Emil teased, finding it easier than ever before to smile around this man. It briefly occurred to him that he could not remember the last time that he had actually laughed.

"Well I will have you know that hugs are my only shortcoming when it comes to things that involve  _physical contact_ " he retorted, maintaining his straight, serious face to keep Emil humored.

"Perv. You know," Emil said sarcastically, "you never asked me if I liked men. For all you knew I could have been one hundred percent straight when you asked me on a date!"

Now it was Lars' turn to chuckle, his serious face breaking to imply how ridiculous the suggestion of Emil's heterosexuality was, and causing both men to start laughing.

When their laughter died down they returned to leaning over the railing and allowed a comfortable silence to settle over them as the sun began to disappear behind the jagged urban skyline before them. Emil took this time to wonder how often Lars laughed. Was it often? No, definitely not. Was it only when he was intoxicated? That seemed likely. Or was the man more like himself, laughter being but a fading memory from his youth? Whatever the case he felt it didn't matter so much here and now. Because here and now he was able to hear Lars' laughter, see his sliver of a smile, and feel more comfortable and welcome in this city than he had ever dreamed of. This newfound comfort made him bold enough to ask Lars for a favor.

"Lars, would you be willing to be with me tonight as I call home?"


End file.
